Yamashita (Kôji Yakusho) is a hard-working salaryman who receives an anonymous letter one day saying that his wife is cheating on him. As a result, he takes the train home early one day and finds the letters accusations to be true. In a blind rage, he murders his wife and is sentenced to ten years in prison. After being released after eight years for good behavior, he moves to a small village to start his life over, opening a barber shop and keeping to himself, spending most of his spare time talking to his pet eel which he was allowed to keep in prison. All this begins to change when he accidentally stumbles across the seemingly lifeless body of a woman named Keiko (Misa Shimizu) who attempted suicide and who looks a great deal like his dead wife. He wants nothing to do with her but an old priest he befriends pushes Yamashita to hire Keiko in his shop. This move sets off a series of events that leads Yamashita on a path to reintegration with society.

Director Shohei Imamura started his career as a key figure in the Japanese New Wave of the 1960s with films like Pigs & Battleships and The Pornographers, but by the time we arrive in 1997 when The Eel is released, Imamura has started following his own muse, making more introspective, contemplative films (actually at the time of The Eel’s release, it marked the first film Imamura had released in 8 years).  While at its core, The Eel is about a lost man trying to find his way back to a semblance of normalcy, it has its own quirks and odd story beats that belies its seemingly somber nature.  First we have the titular creature itself, a kind of totemic symbol of Yamashita’s isolation from society.  He fights tooth and nail to resist encroaching unpredictable civilization but is pushed out of his comfort zone repeatedly by outside forces like the monk and Keiko.  The fact that the film begins with a brutal murder and culminates in a wacky farce that feels almost out of a screwball comedy and have it all work wonderfully is a testament to Imamura’s skill and confidence behind the camera.  Yakusho is excellent as Yamashita, playing the role in a very subtle way.  He could have very easily over- or under-played the part but he gives Yamashita a healthy dose of humanity that makes bringing him out of his shell feel natural.  

On the A/V front, this release from Radiance contains two versions of the film, the director’s cut, which was provided by Shochiku as a digital file and looks very nice with a soft, naturalistic feel that captures the look and tone of the film very well, and a theatrical cut which was assembled by Radiance using the director’s cut and a few standard definition sequences to assemble a complete version.  As one would expect, the standard def sections are obvious but don’t detract too much from those who want to experience Director Shohei Imamura started his career as a key figure in the Japanese New Wave of the 1960s with films like Pigs & Battleships and The Pornographers, but by the time we arrive in 1997 when The Eel is released, Imamura has started following his own muse, making more somber, contemplative films (actually at the time of The Eel’s release, it marked the first film Imamura had released in 8 years).  While at its core, The Eel is about a lost man trying to find his way back to a semblance of normalcy, it has its own quirks and odd story beats that belies its seemingly somber nature.  First we have the titular creature itself, a kind of totemic symbol of Yamashita’s isolation from society.  He fights tooth and nail to resist encroaching unpredictable civilization but is pushed out of his comfort zone repeatedly by outside forces like the monk and Keiko.  The fact that the film begins with a brutal murder and culminates in a wacky farce that feels almost out of a screwball comedy and have it all work wonderfully is a testament to Imamura’s skill and confidence behind the camera.  Yakusho is excellent as Yamashita, playing the role in a very subtle way.  He could have very easily over- or under-played the part but he gives Yamashita a healthy dose of humanity that makes bringing him out of his shell feel natural.  

On the A/V front, this release from Radiance contains two versions of the film, the director’s cut, which was provided by Shochiku as a digital file and looks very nice with a soft, naturalistic feel that captures the look and tone of the film very well, and a theatrical cut which was assembled by Radiance using the director’s cut and a few standard definition sequences to assemble a complete version.  As one would expect, the standard def sections are obvious but don’t detract too much from those who want to experience The Eel as it was originally shown in the theater.  The audio is provided in a nice, clean Japanese language mono track with no noticeable hiss or distortion.  For extras, we first have an interview with Imamura’s son, Daisuke Tengan, who co-wrote The Eel with his father and who provides some interesting insights into his father’s works and the themes he would return to throughout his career.  We also get a 30-minute interview with film critic Tony Rayns on Imamura’s career and the significance of The Eel’s place within it.  This one is particularly recommended for those seeking to learn more about how Imamura evolved over the course of his career from his early Japanese New Wave days.  Finally we have a very nice visual essay from Asian film expert Tom Mes on how significant the year 1997 was in Japanese cinema as a watershed moment in the evolution of the Japanese film industry and what would come to define it going forward.  The Limited Edition release also includes a physical booklet that features an interview with Imamura as well as an interesting essay on The Eel by film book author Andrea Grunert. 

Radiance has delivered once again, an under appreciated, excellent film in a handsome package with meaningful extras.  For fans of Japanese cinema, The Eel is a must-see film from a master.